


adrenaline to rewire my mind

by escherzo



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Face-Sitting, Knifeplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Roleplay, Riding, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo
Summary: “Sasha,” Hamid says, and he reaches out to take her hands in his own. “I, I know this is a lot to ask, but I promise I want to and it's not something I'm doing to—try and hurt myself, okay? I promise. I trust you with my life. I know you wouldn't hurt me.”“You're asking me to, mate,” she says, and she looks up to meet his eyes. They're so full of love, oftrust, that it makes her heart hurt.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Sasha Racket
Comments: 16
Kudos: 48





	adrenaline to rewire my mind

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, I blame WIR, and especially the people posting dark!sasha fanart today. You know who you are.
> 
> Mind the tags. Part of the negotiation of the scene is in the fic, with implications that there's been more detail talked through prior to fic start. Sasha is the "aggressor" in the scenario.
> 
> (title from I Come With Knives by IAMX, bc sometimes you just have to go with the obvious choices)

“But are you, are you _sure?_ ” 

Sasha twists her hands together and stares down at them, at the scars and rough patches where the skin is bruised or broken, and picks at the edges of one of the wounds instead of looking Hamid in the eye. It's much easier to talk about this if she isn't looking him in the eye. 

“Sasha,” Hamid says, and he reaches out to take her hands in his own. “I, I know this is a lot to ask, but I promise I want to and it's not something I'm doing to—try and hurt myself, okay? I promise. I trust you with my life. I know you wouldn't hurt me.”

“You're asking me to, mate,” she says, and she looks up to meet his eyes. They're so full of love, of _trust_ , that it makes her heart hurt. When she'd asked if there was anything else he wanted them to try together, she hadn't expected this. “You want me to pretend I'm--” she couldn't finish, even though he'd managed to get out the words himself, talking in shy, low tones about the way he imagined, sometimes, her holding a blade to his throat and just _taking_ him. Overpowering him with her size. Stealing out of the shadows to press him to down to the bed and make him do whatever she wanted with him. 

“I did say we should find some blunted blades,” Hamid says, and his smile is kind, with a bit of mischief underneath it. He can be so nervous about being straightforward about things he wants sometimes, but with her, she always feels like she's the one on the back foot. One step behind in the dance they're playing, even though he never seems to mind. It's nice, though, seeing him confident like this. She thinks she likes it. 

“Right, like. Right. I can... I think I can do that. When do you want to?” He squeezes his hands in hers and she has to lean in and press a shy, quick kiss to his lips, drawing back before he has a second to react. Keeping him a little off-balance in this too. 

“Tomorrow night?” Hamid asks, biting his lip. His cheeks are flushed. “The others should be out then. We should still try to be quiet, just, just in case there are people in the other rooms around us but I don't expect them to come looking.” 

“Right,” Sasha says, and rests her hands in his for a moment longer before drawing away to rest a steadying palm over one of the blades at her waist. Centering herself again. She's got blunted blades to find. A dark corner of Hamid's room to pick out. And then the rest—will happen as it happens. 

When he meets her eyes again before drawing away, she thinks she can see the greedy gleam of a dragon's gold in them. 

*

She has been waiting for about twenty minutes when she hears the door creak open. The room is dark as pitch and through the light from the hall she can make out the shape of Hamid, yawning and stretching, his spine curving with it, and he lingers for a moment in the hallway to look behind him before closing the door behind him. Leaving everything in shadow. 

When she moves, it is as quiet as a whisper, and it takes no effort at all to come up behind Hamid and press the knife to his throat. Her eyes have adjusted to the dark with the long moments of waiting; she can see his shape perfectly. 

“Who—what? Who are you?” Hamid asks, his voice trembling and high-pitched, and she feels a bolt of unexpected heat surge through her at the sound of it. “What are you doing here?”

Sasha doesn't answer. He was very clear at the start; she didn't have to talk in any of this unless she wanted to. Now doesn't feel like the right time. She walks him back, one hand on his shoulder, dipping just under the collar of his shirt, the other keeping the knife to his throat, until his back is pressed to the wall. He shudders under her and holds very still, arms against the wall. Cornered prey. 

“Do you want—I have gold, do you, do you want gold? You don't have to hurt me! I promise I'll be good,” he says, and her eyes are adjusted to the dark; she can see the flush that rises on his cheeks. The way his lip quivers with the words. “Please, just let me go.”

“No,” she says, and his hands clench and unclench into fists at his side. “You're staying here.” 

The hand at Hamid's shoulder moves to undo his cravat with quick, nimble movements, and his eyes are starting to water. He forces them shut and tries to hold still, and Sasha lets the cold steel of the knife press against his skin fully just for a moment, so that he can feel it with every breath he takes. “Please just tell me what you want and I'll, I'll do it, I promise,” he says, his breathing going shallow, and the flush on his cheeks is spreading lower. 

She moves to grip one of the blades at her wrist with her free hand, letting the familiar weight of it ground her as she raises it towards him, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Trying to deny what is about to happen. His whole body shakes. Sasha is careful, so careful, as she cuts away the fabric of his shirt from his chest, the sharpness of the blade slicing through the linen, and he lets out a soft, plaintive cry, trying to not twist away, trying to not fight the knife at his throat even as the blunted edge presses in a little further. His heaving bare chest is starting to bead with sweat, and as she pushes the ruined fabric away from his body, her hands brush the front of his trousers, and he tries and fails to suppress a whimper as she brushes against the hardness there. She grins into the darkness. 

With his top half bared, Hamid seems even smaller than before, and she towers over him, her body curving towards his. She tucks away the second knife and rests a hand on his chest, pinning him against the wall with a hand, skin to skin; he is so warm, and his heart is beating rabbit-fast.

“Don't hurt me,” he says. “I'll be good.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. _He will be._

Sasha lets the knife at his throat rest for a moment, and he sucks in a deep lungful of air, chest still heaving against her hands. She slides a hand down his chest, slow and intent, and leans in to press their lips together, and he keeps his lips closed, making a muffled sound of protest, until she traces the blunted blade down his side, slow and steady, making him squirm at the coldness of the metal against his flesh. He opens his mouth, then, and she buries a hand in his hair and tilts his head up further towards hers, pushing her tongue slickly against his as he shudders, the noises he is making swallowed up by her mouth. She pulls back just a little, catching his plump bottom lip with her teeth and letting it drag, a sharp little spark of pain. 

“Come on,” she says, and puts the knife back to his throat as she guides him forward towards the bed, her other hand wrapped possessive around his side. Keeping him in place.

“You don't have to do this,” Hamid says, and she ignores it, pressing him down onto the bed. For just a moment, she replaces her knife with a hand around his throat. Just the suggestion of pressure. Her hands are so much bigger than his, and it's so easy. So easy to put him in his place and keep him, and she'd thought, at first, that this was just something for him, something that _he_ wanted, but as she murmurs a “ _stay_ ” against his lips and pulls back to undress, she finds that her own heart is pounding. When she presses her thighs together there is warm heat pooling in her; she's so slick she can _hear_ the movements as she shifts. She sucks in an unsteady breath. There's just something about seeing him like this, vulnerable and half-naked, spread out just for her. A prize to be taken. 

“Please no,” he begs again as she unbuttons his trousers. “Please, you don't have to do this, I don't—I'll do anything, I swear, just don't--” 

“Shh,” she says, putting a finger to his lips, and he stills, his eyes, shiny with tears, slipping closed. He puts his hands up to cover his face. 

That won't do. Sasha reaches up to find the blunted knife again from where she'd set it aside and slowly, lovingly, drags the flat of it against his throat, and he sniffles and takes his hands away. Better. Her fingers linger at his waistband for a long moment, dipping under the fabric to savor the way it makes him twitch against the urge to fight it and try to push her off, and she slides them and his pants off slow and lingering, letting him feel the way the fabric drags the whole way. Hamid's sniffles have turned to half-stifled sobs now, and he looks so lovely like this, so undone. 

It takes no work at all to move up the bed and kneel on either side of his head, straddling his face, and just the hint of suggestion of her knife is enough to get him to comply as she lowers herself down. “Be good,” she says, and he whimpers and opens his mouth, tongue out, and starts slowly, hesitantly, lapping at her clit. The feeling cuts through her, sudden and sharp, and she keeps her moan quiet, biting it back, but in no time at all she's rocking against his face harder, chasing the feeling. She guides his hands up to her hips, and he cries and tries to beg but can't get the word out, and his tongue is so hot against her. He can't do anything like this. She could do anything to him. She could keep pinning him down; she could use him until he's sore and exhausted and he wouldn't be able to stop her. 

Sasha's hips work faster, chasing a peak she's so close to, and Hamid's face is so red, his hands starting to grasp at her hips harder, clenching reflexively as he tries to breathe and can't. He could tap her hip three time and stop this; he won't. He's going to be good for her. He said so. But she can be merciful in this; she shifts back just long enough to let him get in a full breath, and he _sobs_ , mouth finally freed, and it's that that pushes her over the edge as she settles back down, hips pushing hard against his face as it overtakes her, chasing the pressure. His crimson face is a mess when she pulls back, slick, his lips reddened and bruised, his eyes leaking with tears. 

“Looks good,” Sasha says, and he whimpers and, for the first time, tries to fight her properly, straining against her weight atop him, but he's never been the strong one and even though she's never been strong herself, she's still so much bigger than him; he struggles and she pins him down with both hands and lets him thrash. 

She lets him go for just a moment and he starts to sit up, starts to try to move away from her even with her thighs still pinning his sides, and then she shifts back all at once and sinks down on his cock in one smooth movement, hard and straining inside her, and it slips in so easily, but it makes the fight go out of him all at once. Hamid throws his head back, moaning and reaching down to grip the sheets so hard she can hear fabric tear as his claws come out. “Please,” he begs again, still heaving for breath. “Please, _don't_. I don't _want_ this.” Tears trickle from his eyes harder. “Please don't make me.” 

Sasha thinks about reaching for her knife again, but she doesn't think she'll need it; she rocks her hips and he moves with it without meaning to and then shudders, face twisted up; he doesn't want to like this. She moves faster, holding his hips in place to steady herself, still so sensitive from having just come but he feels so good inside her. He doesn't want to be; she doesn't care, and his claws tear into the sheets harder as she sinks down on him again, his whimpering cries and the slick sounds of their bodies moving together filling the room as he tries desperately to hold onto the last remnants of his control, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut. 

“ _Sasha,_ ” Hamid gasps out, and he comes in a long, shuddering pulse inside her, making a mess of her, his whole body quivering with the aftershocks, and it takes no time at all for her to push herself over the edge again herself, reaching down and press two fingers hard against her clit and push up into the pressure.

Sasha slips out of him and nudges the blunted knife off the side of the bed to the floor, spindly arms curling around him. It takes a moment for Hamid to come back to himself, chest heaving as he tries to get his breath back, but when he does he turns in the circle of her arms to face her, a shy smile on his face. 

“Y'alright, Hamid?” she asks, reaching out to brush a beading tear away from the corner of his eye. 

“ _Fantastic,_ ” Hamid says, his voice a wreck, and a lazy pulse of heat shudders through her at the sound. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you, like... for, you know, trusting me with all this,” she says quietly, and he leans in to kiss her, soft and sweet, his small body curling closer to hers. 

“Yeah,” he says, and his face is still so red, but he looks so _happy_. 

“Do you, um. Do you want to go get cleaned up?”

“Not yet,” Hamid says, sighing and shifting in place. “I'm just going to enjoy it for a moment.” 

That she can work with. She closes her eyes and keeps him close, skin to skin, and strokes his back as his breathing settles.


End file.
